The Pain Will Drown Your Silent Screams
by Saya-Sato
Summary: Ironic isn‘t it? The life blood that pumps through your veins…a mix between that of James and Lily Potter, both of whom died at my feet, bringing me back to this sweet existence. ” Set after GOF
1. Author's Note

I realized why people may not be reading this story through

The first chapter is **supposed **to sound out of character. If you continue through the chapter, it will make sense. Please don't judge the story by the first few paragraphs.

I would really love more feedback on this story, so please review !

-Saya


	2. Chapter One

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-disclaimer-

The title of the story was derived from a song I found online. I do know it's a fairly well known band, but unfortunately I don't know their name. If anyone knows, please let me know by posting something or emailing me. I will gladly give credit where credit is due. Sorry about that, I feel guilty just using it. BUT ITS NOT MINE!!! I admit it. ::cries::.

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And now the disclaimer we all love….sorry for the lack of creativity…..:

I, in no way, am making any money from the writing of this story. I am only writing this to challenge myself as a writer. Also…the characters have been bouncing around in my brain telling me what to do and threatening me with deadly weasel bites. I am not J.K. Rowling, I have no idea what she is doing in the next book.

As of right now-I do not own any of the characters for the exception of the news anchor I created.

  
**Setting:**

This takes place the summer after GOF. I have left out the Order of Phoenix only because I haven't the slightest idea of what to do with it.

As always, comments are what I live for. Please, if you are going to comment, make it constructive- it's the only way I can improve my writing.

The more comments, the more motivation I have to continue. I have one more chapter written, so if I get a bunch I will post ASAP.

Now I will shut up and let you good people begin my story . Enjoy!

The Pain Will Drown Your Silent Screams

Saya Sato

"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me." Said Voldermort. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, where there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance. He will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is stronger…." (Taken directly from Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire- Chapter Thirty-Three "The Death Eaters")

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Cold fingers slid around his neck, choking him with their icy touch. The dirty brick room danced with shadows from the fire, crackling merrily, despite the scent of death that wafted through the air. Breath eluded him and gasping he collapsed next to a purple and gilt chair that sat beside the fireplace. Breathing became a laborious task, constantly out of reach, drawing his memories back to the Chamber of Secrets. He felt as if he had just run from the Basalisk. Drawing his knees inward he rocked himself into a fetal position, tears dripping from brilliantly emerald green eyes, protesting softly against the soft black cloak that surrounded his body.

Dull pain became sharp hot blasts in his mind once more and his hands snaked up and clutched his hair in fists, his face twisted up with pain. 

He could see nothing but his knees as he rocked, slowly, reassuringly. It was so reliable, that one motion, back and forth, back and forth. Predictable, a constant. He forced his focus on the black fabric of his cloak, allowing no other thoughts into his mind.

The boy felt a warm presence in the small of his back, that swam upwards to his shoulder. A hand….soft and smooth….it had interrupted his rocking, reached slowly towards him. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and looked up into his mothers beautiful eyes, glossy with suppressed tears. She crouched next to him, and took his hand in her own, gently rubbing the skin of his wrist with a pleasantly similar pattern to his rocking. Back and forth, but with the touch of love, the touch of something that cared.

"Harry"

"Mum." His eyes sparkled slightly as he touched his mothers face with the tips of his fingers...she was solid…not a ghost…nor as far as he could tell, a hallucination…

"Harry…oh Harry…" she laughed silently, a motherly laugh, like music to Harry's ears, instantly a section of his mind once thought to be forgotten opened up. He felt love, strong and true, felt it in her touch, in her voice, and saw it in the depths of her eyes. She loved him as her child, the one she would always protect, the one who meant more to her than her own life. *_Her*_ child.

She leaned forward slightly, stifling a faint cry, her vividly crimson hair falling over her face. Harry saw the droplets of water hit the dusty ground and he reached in front of him. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her and tell her it was going to be ok,- that there was no need to cry for him now. They were together and he would let nothing stand in the way. He took his mothers face in his hands. But something was not right. No…Something was horribly, *horribly* wrong. A damp chill spread quickly thorough his hands, soaking his mind in hazy, painfully half formed thoughts as his mother looked up. Her face, once an image of beauty, became grotesquely deformed. Eyes once loving and warm contorted into cold deep red shells, her nose pressed inwards to two slits, and her voice became low and unnaturally thick. 

"Foolish boy…"

The new being laughed cruelly and twisted Harry's wrist around, gripping the skin so tightly it turned red. It spoke with a *very* familiar silky voice.

"You have no chance." the voice drawled. "No *hope*. I am here- no matter where you go- *who* you talk to- I AM *THERE*." With the pronunciation of each word, he gave Harry's wrist a twist and set his nails deeper into the flesh. 

"You're not real!" Harry attempted to shout, but all that came out was a quiver of his voice, deeply shaking and hardly recognizable. 

"Oh?" Voldermort sighed and waved his hand dismissively. "I assure you I am *very* *much* *alive*. Do you not recall the blood from your own arm being used against you? Ironic isn't it? The life blood that pumps through your veins…a mix between that of James and Lily Potter, both of whom died at my feet, bringing me back to this sweet existence. " He sat down next to Harry. His face flickered into that of Lily once more and spoke sweetly. " Harry, Harry, Harry. When will you understand? You don't chose your fate….but… you can rise to meet it." She pointed to the corner of the room where two people stood, bracing themselves against the wall, their shadows dancing in the firelight.

Harry's voice betrayed him as he spoke. "Ron…..Hermonie….no…." shaking his head he looked at their faces. Awake, moving, but frightened. Speaking with a sudden burst of courage and realization, he silenced the quiver in his voice. "No. Leave them alone."

Harry's 'mother' laughed softly again, but there was nothing motherly about it this time. Picking up a wand from the chair next to her, she stood up and whispered a curse. Grinning, she shot a bolt of light at Hermonie, who was thrown to the floor.

"HERMONIE!" Harry screamed and began to rush towards her limp form. He let out a yelp as his 'mom's' nails dug into his arm, jerking him backwards so hard that he nearly hit the wall behind him. He watched as Hermonie raised herself into a sort of sitting position. Gripping her forearm, she tightened all her muscles and her eyes were shut forcefully, her teeth grinding. Hermonie jolted forward every few seconds only allowing short and forced breaths. Unable to subdue the pain that coursed through her arm any longer, she let out an anguished scream, her upper body collapsing to meet her knees. Harry shuddered and twisted his arm from his "mother's" grasp, desperately searching his cloak for his wand, shaking once more. He fell to the floor next to Hermonie and gingerly pulled away the arm of her cloak. He gasped at the sight before him. 

There carved raw into the once milky white skin of her forearm, was the word "Mudblood." Forever branded. A Muggle born, a threat to the ongoing wizards of the purest blood. One that was wished out of the way by a simple phrase. Hastily, Harry ripped a piece off the bottom of his cloak and kneeled next to her. She smiled weakly at him tears frozen in their decent from her eyes, a small trail of blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth. Harry cringed at the cut but pressed hard on the shredded skin, knowing even if he had a wand, the bleeding had to be slowed before he could use any healing charm. Harry froze aghast as Hermonie let out a shriek. He turned his gaze to the girl's arm as the fabric transformed to a thick, gritty, salt before Harry's eyes. Blistering wounds bloomed over the lacerations and the surrounding skin as Hermonie managed to get to her feet and back away slowly. The blood, the screams, they were nothing compared to the look that displayed itself on her face. Fear…so intense that it bordered insanity. A boy, known to her for four long years of laughter, pain, and humility, a child she had grown with, their lives so intertwined it was impossible to understand the ripping of that relationship in her mind. Words were spat out at Harry….the phrase just barely clinging to the air around him, echoing slowly off the filthy brick walls.

"Just….Like….Worm…tail….." 

Harry's face shone red with rage and shame. He did not attempt to recoil, nor did he force an explanation of what was true. He could not remember any of the events of the past few days…what if he had led Voldermort straight to his friends? Had the boy-who-lived led his friends to their deaths? Had he betrayed Hogwarts? Questions swirled into his mind as if a black fog, blinding him to his surroundings, barely allowing him to stand. There was a resounding coughs and a yelp. His attention was withdrawn from his thoughts as he saw Hermonie drop to the floor, her charred arm below her, black robes billowing out behind, trapping the last bits of air in a vain attempt to right their owner once more.

Harry, stumbled clumsily to where Hermonie lay, and shook her softly. "Please…" He swallowed hard. "Please don't be dead." Words once spoken to another innocent girl, he felt their weight in his chest. Her dull eyes gazed back up at him, a hint of panic in the finer features of her face. 

"She's not dead you fool."

Harry stood up, waves of relief managing to find his mind, but nonetheless felt a pang of suspicion.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked bluntly, holding his arms close to his body.

Voldermort's lips curled into a shapeless sneer as he walked over to another shivering form in the corner…..Ron…. Harry's already pained eyes grew wide as he saw Ron push himself into the furthest corner of the room. Voldermort walked over to the red haired boy, drew back his leg and kicked him hard in the ribs. Laughing he said "I never did care for Muggle fighting, but it does add a sort of *pleasurable* feeling……come Harry…won't you try?" He waved his wand at Harry, who immediately stood up. He knew it as soon as it hit him. ("Imperio" ) A voice in his mind beckoned him to his fallen friend, but this time, there was no stronger voice… Having experienced this before in less critical situations, Harry knew that he wasn't being called over to reassure the crumpled mass on the floor. 

He watched in utter horror as his feet took him to his friend. He felt his hands tighten around Ron's neck, and Voldermort sat down, apparently taking an extreme interest in his new found entertainment. Harry watched his friend's shocked face, arms flailing uselessly at his side, mouth one silent word. 

Why….. 

Ron's eyes begged him to stop as he dropped to his hands and knees, a hand clutched at his throat, trying to pry away Harry's fingers, gasping. Harry fought desperately, released his quivering hand for a moment and managed a strangled "Ron! RUN! It isn't me! it's Vol……" His yells were abruptly stopped as he felt himself lifted once more, and Ron cried out. Powerless, Harry watched himself repeatedly knee his best friend hard in the stomach, keeping him upright with a fistful of hair. Ron heaved and coughed up a mess of blood and vomit, coating the front of Harry's cloak. Harry sensed something cool and stiff in his palm, and let out a mental sob as he saw his wand pointed at Ron's face. A few select mumbles were let out of his mouth and with a bolt of light, Ron smashed into the brick wall, bearing an expression that engraved itself in Harry's mind. Betrayal, anger, fear and disbelief streaked his damaged face. In his mind, Harry screamed, wanting to comfort his fallen friend, but felt his body do nothing but….laugh….

What sort of sick game was Voldermort playing this time? He felt himself trod on the boys arm as his back curved to form a bow to Voldermort. Inside, Harry was fuming. Never….never…anger boiled up in him with an alarming rate, blind rage and revenge filled his emerald green eyes. The curse shattered violently and Harry was thrown off balance. Quickly grabbing a nearbye chair to steady himself, he caught his first glimpse into Voldermort's eyes. Empty, dark red voids, which undoubtedly felt nothing more than joy at the scene before him. 

Grasping his wand tightly, Harry whispered the forbidden words. The curse that had killed his parents….revenge was to be his….a bright green light lit up Harry's features as it surged out of his wand, sweeping his hair back….no more he thought, no more……but as the light surged towards Voldermort, the dark lord smirked and disapparated. In his place, appeared the terrified forms of his two best friends, bloody and frozen with fear. The green light engulfed their bodies, a symphony of blood curdling screams filling the room. The sounds ricocheted off the walls of Harry's mind, and two deadened thumps overcame the mental barrier he was holding up. Staggering to keep himself upwards, reality soaked his mind. His best friends lay dead on the floor.

Panic swept over him and his attempt at a scream came out as a rasping moan. Clutching at his chest he struggled for breath that would not come. Desperately, Harry dropped to the floor, his fingers fluttering over Hermonie's tightly shut eyes, his hand shaking Ron's shoulder. He brought Hermonie's hand up to his face, violent sobs racking his thin body. His sorrow was interrupted by a gruff, ominous voice.

"…it's all here….in youuuuur head…."

The voice in his mind withdrew as quickly as it had arrived.

The horrified expressions of his two best friends melded into that of Cedric's shocked one. The image burned itself into him, forcing itself to the front of his mind. The room faded into a swirl of searing white fog, grabbing at his cloak, pushing him backwards blindly. The light itself began to burn through his eyelids, forcing them to split apart. Harry felt a presence behind him and turned to see his parents arguing. 

"Of course you thought he would be of some help! But look at the boy!" James Potter paced the white room, anger more than evident in his tone, as he argued with a tired looking woman drinking tea at a table….Lily…

"He's nothing but trouble for everyone he meets. He killed Cedric, and he'll move on. He killed us didn't he? Tricked us into thinking he could save us… Wizards and Muggles alike!….nothing but lies…look at him, he can barely stand, let alone save the world.." A person munching on tea cookies nodded thoughtfully….Cedric…. The young man turned to Harry and shook the cookie towards him, as if his presence had been noted a long time ago. 

"Why couldn't you leave us out of this? But it seems to me…that the Boy-Who-Lived is desperate for some more attention. Bloody hell Harry….I never thought I would say this to anyone, but you are, at heart, a true Slytherin. One Hufflepuff down and out of the Quiddich match….." he paused for a moment. "…*Not* to mention a *complete* disregard of your fellow Gryffindors…." Cedric directed Harry's gaze with a nod of his head at Hermonie and Ron who sat at the table as well, obviously distraught. They refused to meet his eyes. 

Lily looked at Harry and shook her head sadly. Her voice was tinged with disappointment, rather than anger . "We thought you'd actually go somewhere… They call you the defeater of the dark lord… Was our sacrifice meaningless? All you did was give people…. false… hope…." She broke into a sob and James took her into his arms. 

"How could you do this to your mother?!"

"Yes how *could* you?" Voldermort sneered as he pushed the image of Harry's parents and friends away. "Well, I thought I should show you something a bit more realistic…."The dark lord raised his eyebrows at the boy.. "and fun."

A static filled image surrounded Harry's senses. Horizontal lines assaulted his vision, jumping around so one could never concentrate one line. Nausea burned it's way up his stomach…a figure formed beyond the lines, causing a ripple effect through out the scene. Harry saw his mother just before her death….freeze framed…her voice screaming into the void that he felt his heart drop into… 

"Take me! Not Harry!"

"Look at that **Potter**….she would rather die than face a world with *you*. She died for you and all you do is fail her. *Repeatedly* " Voldermort looked quite pleased at the effect his words had on Harry and watched with an eerie smile on his face.

Harry, slowly dropped to the floor, overcome with fresh emotion…. "Leave them alone….Please…" He began to whisper, growing more desperate as he watched his mother struck down again…."You have me! I'll….I'll come to you. Just leave them out of it."

Voldermort let out a high cold laugh. "Oh the great Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived? Typical Gryffindor if I do say so, and *such* *a* *Potter* cliché. Always wanting to be the hero….. No, you can't die now…*You*… have a reputation to keep. I have been in greater pain… because of *you*… for over thirt -teen years, I don't think that *this* quite equals my own yet…." A flicker of emotion passed in his eyes as he spoke sweetly "Personally…I'm happy where you are."

Harry let out a horse cry and bolted upwards in his bed to find himself drenched by a cold sweat. Nothing but silence surrounded him, but nonetheless he anxiously listened to the surroundings. The last thing he needed was for Uncle Vernon to wake up. A feeble hoot and his own ragged breaths met his uncertain ears, but no one else was stirring just yet. The blue luminous clock next to him read 4:03 am. He had been fifteen now for over four hours.

Out of nervous habit, he ran a shaky hand over his hair. Nightmares were no stranger to the boy of the smallest bedroom on 4 Privet Drive, but *this*….this was just * cruel *… He was sure that the Dursleys' slept on dreamlessly of course, for their worst nightmare just happened to occupy the room next to their own. Harry was the most unfortunate thing that could have happened to Petunia and Vernon Dursley, a nephew, with the habit of stretching his magic wings. In most homes, magical ability would have been embraced, but in this house, magic was more than just not welcome- it was forbidden. Harry had soon learned that few of his fellow Hogwarts schoolmates had families that despised magic. Indeed, he had never met another witch or wizard with a story of rescue like his own. As he had done on numerous occasions, he silently thanked Albus Dumbledore for sending Hagrid to him those few short years ago….it seemed so much longer at times…occasionaly, he awoke swearing to himself it had been just a dream, expecting to have to go that horrid Muggles school again…But the presence of his Firebolt on the ground next to him, and the various images zooming around on textbooks were enough to reassure him of his place in the world. 

Still quite shaken by his nightmare, Harry stood up and looked out the window of his room. Dull orange light from the streetlights, melted into the inky blue of the morning, revealing nothing out of the ordinary on the residential road….just silent homes and a thin layer of dew on the grass. Harry sat down with a loud sigh and began to absentmindedly stroke Hedwig. 

Cedric's death in the Triwizard tournament this year had the habit of finding its way into everyday things…forcing him to become blank and his appearance dull…and even the thick headed Dursley's noticed his change of personality. They of course, only cared that he lacked a response to any of the insults thrown his way. Harry had become obedient and emotionless in just a few short weeks, making the meals, doing the chores, than retreating to his room to throw himself into his studies, begging his mind to remember the history of goblin rebellions, rather than the expressions on his classmates faces when they learned of Cedric's untimely death. 

Harry slowly became aware of how icy his idle fingers felt as he gently brushed his hair from his eyes. The cool touch was welcomed onto his burning forehead. Ever since he had gotten back to the Dursley's, the nightmares brought such a pain to his scar, he tended to break into bouts of fever. Harry would writhe with the liquid agony that shot through his nerves, a pain that would continue to wrack his small body for hours on end. Sleep had become nearly impossible. Deep, dark circles were etched underneath his cloudy eyes. The fire that had once burned in them was now smothered under the guilt that pressed its way into every possible memory. Harry's mind felt crowded, thoughts jostled around, unorganized, unnoticed.

A sob did not quite make his lips, but remained in his eyes begging for a release that Harry knew all to well would never come. No tears were enough. So many people who had relied on him would never feel the thrill of a new day again. No wind nor rain touched their fragile bodies, only painfully cold earth found its way to them. Even those who were not dead felt effects from his friendship. Hermonie looked more stressed than when finals were approaching, Ron's playful expression was gradually fading into that of a war veteran. Professor Dumbledore's bright eyes had long since lost their characteristic shine. And Sirius… Sirius was forced into hiding by the very act that caused Harry such fame.

Sleep tugged at Harry's eyelids, desperately luring him towards a tight embrace. He glanced at his clock once more- 5:30 AM. Soon enough the daylight would pierce this dreadful time, and sleep could be forgotten during the daytime hours. Vernon always had an impossible chore list to complete to occupy the boy. But to his relief, without the sleep, there would be no nightmares. 

It was getting harder to distinguish which were real or not. Was he dreaming of sleep or sleeping in a dream? Reality had been so easily swayed by the dreams that to a certain extent, Harry didn't remember past events as clearly as he once had. Sometimes, at night, he would gaze into the dark corners of the room, straining his mind to remember, only being met with a web of neatly spun questions that blocked his path. 

Harry laid down once more and unconciously traced his scar with his forefinger. 

Dumbledore had told him he couldn't go to the Weasley's right away…but surely…that time had passed? Harry desperately wanted to leave the Dursley's home. ..to laugh again…to fly…but in a way…here there were no questions…here he was unrecognizable… fearing only the people living with him… Here he was… just…*Harry*. There was no super child persona to live up to, no golden acts or envious stares. There was work to be done and a few meals to cook. The comments made were nearly all blocked from his mind. Then he was left to his own devices, to think, read, do whatever he felt like doing. 

Harry began to rub furiously at the sleep that pricked its way into his eyelids. He wracked his panicked mind for a more desirable solution to his predicament…other than succumbing to the indefinite world of subconsciously blocked memories…. He didn't know how much longer he could hold up…

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A/N

James is supposed to sound Out of Character because he's not real in that scene. He's just a poorly created version by Voldermort. ( hehe sounds like a perfume…. James Version..by Voldermort….lol doesn't take much to amuse me)

TV man is used to capture the stupid ness of Muggle TV- they can go from a serious event for someone to a stupid comment about weather. 

Harry can't perform a healing charm right away because he's not that experienced and can't do complex spells.

I swear if any of ya make a comment about the "cool stiff thing" in his palm, ill have to hurt ya you perverts

Things may change a bit, I'm still editing, but I am really need some feedback to continue.

Please comment and I'll post the next chapter!!!!

Clicky clicky? 

Pweese? For the children?


	3. Chapter Two

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Once again: I do not own harry potter. For the full disclaimer, see chapter one. I'm too lazy to rewrite it.

6, 6:30, 7, it all passed in a blaze of brightening light behind Harry's eyelids. Frustrated with the dull droning of a distant lawnmower, he threw the sheets off his body and trudged towards the bathroom. 

Cold water was splashed into his face, barely awakening his sleepy senses. The practice had become so regular, that his body no longer responded to the drastic change in temperature. Sighing, Harry got dressed and went downstairs to cook the breakfast.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, here is a chance to make some money!"

The irritating news anchor gave a giant grin to the camera, relishing the effect those words would have on his viewers. Harry gave a less than discrete sigh as Dudley thrust his chair even closer to the television, his beady little eyes unmoving, sitting at rapt attention. The news man paused for effect, his chest swelling and voice inflating. Continuing his story slowly, he hooked every listening ear in Surrey.

"Well! The escaped convict Sirius Black has been sighted on the outskirts of London. Any information that can help aid the police in his re-capture, will be highly rewarded." 

Smiling, his thick eyebrows rose to an unnatural height on his forehead. "Again folks, just call the hotline if you have seen this man." He pointed to a familiar Azkaban-dated photo that slid in the top corner of the screen. "Police have asked us to again warn you that Black is armed and dangerous…And now Julie, *how about* this *heat* wave?"

Harry gasped loudly, staring agape at the TV, as a half-cooked pancake landed wetly on the linoleum.

"Stupid boy. Clean it up before your Uncle comes down." Aunt Petunia shoved a half empty jar of syrup into his hands. "Get more of this." Straightening her flowered skirt she swept back to Dudley and the TV.

Harry, having not moved, began to mumble to himself softly, incoherently spewing forward theories. It didn't make sense. Normal Muggles would have forgotten his name already, having been a whole year since the first announcement. That is, for the exception of Petunia, who had to be the nosiest woman in the whole of Surrey. Why would Sirius risk being seen so close to Diagon Alley? Was he on his way here?

The edges of his vision began to blur and fade, the effect slowly creeping over the rest of his line of vision. An angry voice was buzzing in the far reaches of his mind as he felt himself fall…

A sharp slap across Harry's face brought him to his senses, becoming aware of the smell of something burning. He also noticed that he was eye level with a slow moving brown substance as edging its way across the floor- the remnants of the syrup jar.

"I didn't even catch the weather! Idiot child. Go, fetch a mop and be quick about it. I don't want my floor ruined!" 

Gripping the edge of the counter, Harry pulled himself up and stumbled towards the closet. Using a wad of napkins he picked up the broken shards of glass and most of the syrup, continuing to mop at the impossibly sticky stain on the ground. What if Sirius was caught? Harry felt the air in his throat catch, and was forced to lean on the mop as a wave of nausea passed through him.

Moving cautiously, he put away the cleaning items and began a new batch of pancakes. Harry was careful to not let his guard down again.

Moments later, Vernon now sat with a stack of pancakes and a newspaper in front of his face. His mouth full of food, he declared "That maniac Black could be heading this way. Better keep an eye out Petunia. We don't want the new car stolen."

He patted the keys in his pocket protectively.

Harry finished making some eggs and placed the dish in the middle of the table, sitting down at a corner to eat the bit of eggs he was able to save. Petunia walked over to him and spooned more on his plate. Harry just stared dumbfounded. She gave him a smug look as she passed the plate to a now empty-plated Dudley. Harry sent a glare his cousins way as a burnt pancake was dropped in front of him. Fighting back his anger, he chewed on its repulsively charred surface.

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Sorry, it is a bit short isn't it?

It may be a while before the next chapter, I have such writers block it hurts. Any sugestions and comments are welcome! Here or at my email perfectblue16@hotmail.com

Sugah high: Thanks for the review. Yeah I noticed some silly spelling mistakes too, sorry about that im gunna fix it as soon as I can. I'm glad it was confusing it helps motivate people to read more sometimes.

Starreemoon: thanks for the review. I'm glad your curious, I was worried that I might have put a chapter break where no one would want to read any more. Not to angsty is it?

Emilie: Thanks here's the next chapter

Still Waters: you are always an inspiration, love ya!


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